Blair drummed his fingertips on the table impatiently. It had taken only 30 minutes in booking, but since then, he'd been cooling his heels in one of the interrogation rooms waiting on Simon. He glanced at his reflection in the two-way mirror again, taking in the tired, bloodshot eyes, dark beard stubble, and lines of exhaustion on his face. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, then raked his fingers through his tangled hair. He needed a shower, some food, and about a week's worth of sleep, not necessarily in that order.

Shoving his chair back, he got to his feet, prowling the small room like a caged animal. He knew exactly what they were doing, leaving him alone like this, wanting him to worry, wanting him to sweat. Well, he would give them a show. He crossed the room again, feeling his lip curl back in a snarl. This wasn't his home anymore, and the cops were no longer his friends. Especially Jim. He stared at the mirror again, knowing the Sentinel was behind it, feeling his eyes on him.

Damn you, Jim! Why in the hell did you have to get involved in this? It was supposed to be a simple job, easy enough for Blair to handle alone, and he would have, if Jim hadn't interfered. The mask would have been theirs, and they would have been on the next flight out of Cascade. Now he didn't know if he would ever get to take Drea and Mica home . . . . God, the thought of Drea having to go back to jail terrified him. The strain of trying to control her senses without him in that kind of environment would break her, could drive her insane.

He sank back into the hard wooden chair, laying his arms on the table and leaning his forehead against them. They were screwed . . . unless . . . his mind began to race back over the case the PD had created against Alex over a year ago. They really hadn't had much to go on other than the fact the tape from the security company break in had showed the thief reacting like a sentinel to the alarm. No evidence had been left at any of the scenes, they'd never found the gun she'd shot the guard with, and the hair found on the fire escape could have been left at any time. They couldn't prove the nerve gas had ever been in their hands either. About the only thing they had to worry about was Hettinger's death, and that had occurred in Sierra Verde, and had been an accident.

Blair felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and gave into it. He'd had nightmares for weeks about that whole incident, and each time he'd woken drenched in sweat and shaking, uncertain of where he was and whether or not he was still dreaming, Drea had been there, her arms wrapped around him, reassuring him that it had been an accident, that Carl's death hadn't been his fault. Hot tears stung his eyes, and he blinked them back, glad his face was hidden in his arms. He knew they would try to use any sign of weakness on his part against him. If they thought he was just going to cave in and confess, they had another thing coming. He was going to get them out of this; they were going to go home and raise their child together.

At the sound of the door opening, Blair lifted his head to see Simon entering the room. The captain took a seat across from the Guide and slid a bottle of water over to him. He unscrewed the cap, taking a long drink before setting it back down. "When can I get out of here, Simon? You don't have anything to hold me with."

Banks sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Try assault on a police officer, Sandburg."

Blair's eyes darted to the two-way mirror. "He shot my +wife+! How the hell was I supposed to know he wasn't going to do it again if I didn't stop him?"

"On me."

Blair snorted. "Like a jury isn't going to sympathize with the traumatized husband and father."

"Obviously you're no longer intimidated by me."

The smaller man flicked a grin at him. "Obviously. You wanna ask me questions, go right ahead. I reserve the right not to answer them if I don't want to." His smile broadened. "But I'm not a cruel man, I know there's some things you're dying to ask me. Off the record, since we're alone in here, with the exception of Ellison behind the glass there, and the absence of a tape recorder. So go ahead, ask."

Shaking his head, Banks said, "You're not the same person you were a year ago."

"Of course not. I've been through a hell of a lot; I've grown up. I have a family to look after, to think about." Blair folded his hands in front of him, his gaze still fixed on the mirror. Are you getting all this Jim? Will you understand if I spell it out for you?

"That's what I don't understand, Sandburg. How could you just take off with Barnes like that? You knew she'd done time, that she was a criminal."

Blair chewed the inside of his lip, considering his answer. Finally he said, "She needed me, and I needed her. She was a Sentinel without a Guide, and I was a Guide without a Sentinel. It was the only thing that made sense in all that madness. I'm not saying I didn't seriously think about what I was doing, but I made the only choice I could. This Guide thing, it's genetic too, just as much as the Sentinel thing is. I spent most of my life searching for a Sentinel, thinking it was to satisfy my intellectual curiosity, when in reality it was a search for my purpose, my reason for being."

"So what was that whole thing in Sierra Verde then? Shooting at Jim and holing up in the temple for two days?" Simon leaned forward in his chair.

"That was . . ." Blair searched for the right words. "The shooting thing, that was me protecting my partner. And the temple? That was the most profound, enlightening experience of my life. It changed me completely, both inside and out. It really brought home to me the fact there is another world out there, a spiritual plane. I know things now about being a Guide, being a Shaman, that I never would have figured out on my own. Like you said, I'm not the same person any more. After what I've been through, there's no way I could be."

Simon's head was pounding, but he continued. "One last question, what were you doing at the museum last night?"

"Taking a walk. The weather was nice; we felt like some exercise. We just happened to pick the campus; safer than the parks, you know." Blair took another drink of water. "Are we through now? I need to get back to the hospital. Unless you're planning on charging me with something?"

Shaking his head, Simon got to his feet. "No, not at this time, Sandburg. Just don't get any crazy ideas about leaving town."

Blair stood up and headed for the exit. "Really, Simon, what kind of a husband do you think I am?" Twisting the handle and opening the door, he left the room.

Ellison stood in the small cubicle off the interrogation room, facing the two-way mirror, his arms folded across his chest, his jaw clenched, watching his former partner pacing like a pissed off wolf. Every so often, he would turn and face the mirror, staring right at the spot where Jim stood, as if he knew he was being watched. This time as he turned, his hair flying, his lip curled back in what Jim could only call a snarl. For an instant, the image of a huge, angry wolf overlaid the features of the Guide. Startled, the sentinel took a step back.

Just as quickly as the wolf had appeared, it was gone. Shaking his head, Jim turned his attention back to Blair, watching as he pulled out the chair and sat down at the table, laying his head on his folded arms. Stretching out with his hearing, Jim could pickup up Blair's quick, shallow breaths, and his slightly elevated heartrate. The sentinel wasn't surprised at the physical signs of stress after what the younger man had been through that night. Without warning, Blair's heartrate shot through the roof. Ellison started for the door, but then Captain Banks entered the interrogation room, and Blair raised his head from his arms.

The change in him was immediate. He went from seemingly vulnerable to cynical in a split second. Jim listened to the conversation for a few seconds, thinking back over the case, or lack there of, against Sandburg. Damn it! If only he could remember what happened at the museum, then they might have something to hold him with. The assault charges wouldn't stand up in court; Blair was acting in response to a perceived threat to his family. His family . . . Jim suppressed a shudder. It was very hard for him to picture Blair and Alex, or Drea, or whatever the hell her name was, together, married even. Somehow he had never envisioned Blair as being the marrying kind; he'd always seemed to be having too much fun playing the field to settle down with one woman. And since when had cold-blooded killers been his type anyway?

Simon must have been reading Jim's mind. He asked Sandburg why he ran off with the female sentinel. Blair's answer rocked the detective to the core. "She needed me, and I needed her. She was a Sentinel without a Guide, and I was a Guide without a Sentinel . . ." The rest of his reply was lost as memories of that fateful night in the bullpen played back in Jim's mind, his words taking on a new significance.

Blair had been trying to apologize, he knew that now.

*The anthropologist cornered the detective as he was putting on his jacket. "Look, Jim, I just wanted you to know that I realize I was wrong for not telling you about Alex." The next words were difficult for him, and he kept his eyes to the side, to the floor, anywhere but on Jim's face. "I was only thinking about myself, about my work, and somewhere along the line I lost track of my friend."

For once Ellison opened up, laying his feelings on the line, not realizing how deeply his words would wound the other man. "Chief, I don't know what you want me to say. I don't know if I can get past this. To me, it was a real breach of trust. And that struck really deep with me."

Blair's next words were almost angry. "Give me a break here. How was I supposed to know she was a criminal?"

Jim tried to be patient. "Chief, this isn't about her being a criminal. I gotta have a partner I can trust. Have you ever stopped to think about what good all this research is doing any way?"

Again Blair was on the defensive. "Yeah, Jim, I think about it every day." His tone softened slightly. "I mean, for one thing, it's helped you find out who you are . . ."

Ellison cut him off irritatedly. Did he have to spell it out for him? "Wait, whoa, whoa, whoa. I know who I am, okay? I don't need you or anyone else to help me define that. Is that clear?" The pain in Blair's eyes was too much, and he glanced to the right, determined to finish what he had to say. "Maybe it's just better if you finish your diss or doctorate writing about somebody else." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the anthropologist's look of stunned disbelief.

Recovering quickly, Blair blurted out, "That's crazy. I know I made a mistake, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get past this." Sensing there was nothing he could do to sway the sentinel, he continued quietly, "But if, if you've got to hang on to it . . ." He left the next move in Jim's hands. "You know where to find me."

Jim couldn't meet his eyes, staring at the floor as Blair turned and walked away. Finally, he lifted his head, his gaze following the smaller man's slumped shoulders as he walked out the door.

With his inaction, his stubborn refusal to go after Blair and make things right, Jim had sealed both their fates. Blair was wrong when he said he'd made the only choice he could. Jim had taken that choice away from him.

And now the man who had been his best friend was lying to his captain to protect the woman Jim had shoved him toward. Oh, his heart beat at a normal pace, and his words and mannerisms were calm and matter of fact, but Jim knew he'd been inside that museum, that he was no stranger to breaking and entering. Everything Blair was now, Jim had made him. He hung his head, his eyes closed, regretting now more than ever the words he had spoken over a year ago. He had been wrong then. He did need Blair, had always needed him, not just to help him with his senses, but to help him save his soul. So lost was he in his own painful regret, he never noticed when Blair rose and left the room.

Fear. There should be fear . . . and pain. But for some reason, there wasn't. Only a warm, pleasantly fuzzy feeling, like the buzz from a couple glasses of wine. But she couldn't remember drinking any wine, not in a long time. Automatically, she stretched out her senses as he had taught her, and the immediate antiseptic smell identified her surroundings as a hospital. That would explain the fuzziness, she must be on some kind of drugs. Hearing confirmed the hospital setting, and alerted her to his presence, his familiar heartbeat encouraging her to open her eyes, to gaze upon that beautiful face.

Drea forced her eyes open slowly, waiting for the painful light that never came. The room was in shadow, the blinds at the window closed against the sun, and the overhead light off. A smile crossed her face; he was always thinking of her. Looking to the side, she located him, seated in a chair to her left, leaning forward so that his arms rested on the edge of the bed. His head was pillowed on his hands, his loose hair obscuring his face. She moved her hand to rest lightly on the back of his head, the silky curls sliding between her fingers. Blair slept on, undisturbed.

Out of all the things that had happened to her in her life, nothing amazed her more than this, than waking up to find him beside her. She knew she had done nothing to deserve this, to deserve his care, his friendship, his love, at least at first. Her worst nightmare, the one that woke her screaming in the middle of the night, always came back to that moment at the fountain. Each time she shoved him into the water, holding his head under until he ceased to struggle and his thundering heartbeat faded away, leaving her alone in the dark with the knowledge of what she had done. But he was always there when she clawed her way out of the dream, his arms around her, cradling her head against his chest so the first thing she heard was the strong, constant beating of his heart, letting her know it wasn't real, that he was alive, and he would never leave her.

It was then she noticed the absence of the second heart, the one she knew as well as his. It frightened her for a moment, until she ranged out further with her senses and found it a couple rooms away, tiny, but steady. Mica. Their daughter was okay. Overcome with an immediate need to hold her, to see her face for the first time, Drea tugged at one of Blair's curls.

"Hmm, what? I'm awake, I'm awake!" He raised his head, bloodshot blue eyes set in an exhausted face gazing at her. "Oh, you're awake." He rose slowly, wincing as his cramped muscles protested. Leaning over her, he kissed her forehead tenderly, then at her small pout, he pressed his lips to hers, the intimate caress reaffirming their bond. Finally pulling away, Blair carefully took a seat on the edge of the bed, his hand immediately covering hers, feeling her fingers grip his.

"I want to see Mica; I need to see Mica," she told him.

"Okay, I'll go get her in a second. First, how are you feeling? You in any pain? Thirsty?"

Drea shook her head. "Babe, I'm fine, or I will be, once I see our daughter."

A broad grin split Blair's face. "Okay, okay, I'm going."

He returned a few minutes later, a blanket wrapped bundle in his arms and a bottle in his hand. Placing the bottle on the bedside table, he sat down on the side of the bed again, carefully laying Mica against the uninjured side of Drea's chest, and she wrapped her good arm around her. Blair moved the corner of the blanket aside, and his wife got her first look at their child.

"Oh, my," she finally whispered. "She's beautiful." She glanced up at him, her radiant smile undimmed by the tears in her eyes. "She has your eyes, and your curls."

Blair grinned back at her, one long finger running over the dark cap of hair on Mica's head. "That's funny, I thought she had your eyes."

Drea shook her head, and despite the twinge of pain that shot through her chest, she raised her right hand to stroke her husband's cheek. "She's going to be her father's daughter, in more ways than just her looks. She's a Guide."

His eyes widening in surprise, Blair said, "You can tell that?" Drea nodded. "That's really...weird. When I held her last night, and just now, I could swear she was a Sentinel..." His musings were interrupted by a whimper that turned into a wail. "Oops! They were just going to feed her when I went to get her." Picking up the bottle, he held it for his daughter, who began to drink eagerly.

Drea watched their little miracle for a few moments, then realized there were some things she didn't know about what had happened the night before. "Babe, after they took me to surgery, what happened to you? Did they let you stay here?"

Nodding, he answered, "Yeah, until you were out of danger. Then Simon took me down to the station, booked and questioned me." At her worried expression, he said, "It's okay. He didn't have anything to hold me with, and they don't have enough evidence to make a case against you for last night, or last year. As soon as you are well enough to travel, we are out of here." He leaned over, surprising her with a passionate kiss. When they came up for air, he looked down at Mica. "Which reminds me, I need to see about getting her a passport . . ."

"There'll be plenty of time for that, Blair. What I want you to do after Mica's finished eating is to go get some rest."

"I feel like I should stay here with you . . ."

"Babe, I'm fine; Mica's fine. You are almost asleep on your feet, probably haven't eaten anything since dinner yesterday, and, you could do with a shower, too." She wrinkled her nose at him.

"Okay, but if Simon or anyone from the station comes around, you aren't answering any questions without myself or a lawyer present." Blair waved a stern finger at her.

"Got it. Now could you . . . ?" She nodded towards Mica. "I'm really starting to hurt."

Blair took her from Drea. "I'll go see if they can give you anything for the pain, and take her back to the nursery. You'll be okay, right?"

"I told you, I'm fine. Just a little achy, that's all."

Giving her a kiss on the cheek, Blair took their child and left the room, unaware that Sentinel ears had been listening to their entire conversation.

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